


Seeing Red

by Telesilla



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Dark, Drugs, M/M, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-14
Updated: 2007-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens made John do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Red

Rodney's spread, his legs tied to rings two of the legs of the massive wooden table. His hands are tied together and resting against the small of his back. A brown leather strap, worn a little in places, rests against his back just below his broad shoulders; it too is attached to the table. Oil gleams on the high insides of his thighs and on his ass.

John knows all this; he sees it automatically with the part of him that is always aware of his surroundings. He wishes he could turn it off, wishes he could have no record of this event.

Although no one would ever believe it of him, John's a bit of a coward sometimes.

There are hands on Rodney now, hands with dark hair on the backs of them and long fingers. They look tan and even a little weathered against the pale skin of Rodney's ass, and John feels a sudden flash of anger. Rodney's never done this before, although he and John have been working up to it. That it should happen like this, with an audience and Rodney bound and unwilling, is horribly wrong. John needs to do something about that.

He growls just a little, and then everything in his head spins and shifts, and while John always liked Ferris wheels, when he was young the tilt-a-whirl scared the crap out of him. This time the ride's spinning in his brain, and when he shakes his head trying to think clearly, it just gets worse, images shifting and red flaring behind his vision, until he has to open his eyes again.

The red is still there; he's looking at Rodney through it, watching Rodney's hands twist against the ropes. "Don't fight it," a very  
familiar voice says, and then John growls again, angry that anyone would dare talk to Rodney like that.

"Don't do this," Rodney says, and although he's trying to hide it, John can hear the fear in his voice. "Please...you'll hate yourself." That's not like Rodney, and John frowns and blinks and tries to figure out why Rodney cares more about the person manhandling his ass than he does about himself.

For a moment, he can think somewhat clearly again and he almost pulls back at the feel of sleek, cool skin under his fingers. Rodney's talking to _John_, and John supposes he's known that from the beginning, that he'd recognized his own hands as he stripped Rodney, bound him to this table and oiled him up.

The moment of sanity passes, and the fact that he's aware of what he's doing doesn't matter. Nothing really matters except that he's harder than he's ever been and he feels that if he doesn't fuck Rodney _right now,_ he might well die. He growls again and slaps Rodney once, watching a red handprint rise up on Rodney's pale skin. That and Rodney's subsequent yelp just make him want this more, and he grins tightly as he watches his hands spread Rodney open.

"John," Rodney says, his voice high and tight. "John...you need to...you can't...."

And that's actually kind of funny. It's not just that Rodney's calling him John in public for the first time that John can remember, it's that he thinks John can't do this. "It's all right, Rodney," he says, laughing a little. "I'm good. I can do this." He moves forward and presses up against Rodney, wanting to prove that he's more than ready.

"That not...damnit John...." Rodney goes silent for a moment, and then he takes a deep breath. "Just get it over with, then."

That's more than enough for John, who was going to do it anyway. Why Rodney thinks John needs his permission is beyond John. Rodney's _his_.

"Mine," John growls. He pushes into Rodney with one hard thrust, groaning at the tight heat that immediately surrounds his cock. Rodney makes an odd, keening noise and he sounds so fucking hot that John can hardly breathe. He's the first to ever have Rodney this way, and knowing that brings the red down over his vision again. Pulling back, he waits a moment before slamming in hard, his breath coming in sharp pants.

Rodney's still making those noises and he's twisting against the straps and the rope. "Mine," John says again, grabbing Rodney's hips and digging his fingers in hard, both to get a grip of oiled flesh and to leave bruises. He wants Rodney marked after this, wants Rodney to know who he belongs to.

Continuing to fuck Rodney hard, John bends down and bites Rodney's shoulder, breathing in the scent of sweat and the thick oil he'd used on Rodney's skin. John can still smell the dry, acrid smoke from the pipe he'd smoked just before the ceremony, and in another brief second of sanity, he remembers Rodney staring at him and then rolling his eyes.

_Oh God, Colonel, you're so baked. I just can't take you anywhere, can I?_

John blinks, trying to process the vague feeling that something is wrong here. "Call me John," he says against Rodney's skin, pausing for a moment. "You're mine and I want you to call me John...."

Rodney says nothing and John frowns. "You're...mine...." he growls, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "Mine...no one else can have you."

Rodney makes a hitched little noise at that and John bites down again, higher this time, where Rodney's collar won't hide the mark. He wishes he could have kissed Rodney, bit at that slanted mouth until it was red and swollen for everyone to see. He'll do that later,  
he thinks, and the idea pushes him to fuck Rodney harder. He'll kiss Rodney until Rodney's lips hurt just a little and then he'll push  
Rodney down onto his knees and fuck his nice, wide mouth, so perfect for it. Sucking cock is another thing Rodney's only ever done with John.

The red is back, and John closes his eyes, seeing it wash over his inner vision like dye, like blood. With a strangled yell, he thrusts once more into Rodney and then he's coming and the red is blazing up behind his eyelids and spilling over just like he's spilling into Rodney, marking him, and everything's going hazy and he's falling back into more red and it's all so....

The next thing John hears is the sound of gunfire and Rodney's voice.

"It's...well, it's not okay, you understand, but I can run; just look after the Colonel." The world moves strangely and John suddenly smells leather, sweat and an underlying hint of soap. "Did you get his P-90? Right, I'll take it, and will someone get me some pants or something because I refuse to pilot the jumper bare-assed."

There was a pause in which there was more gunfire and then John has a moment to realize that he's slung over Ronon's shoulder. He has a choice between passing out or throwing up and decides that passing out is the way to go. As he drops back into the darkness, he wonders where the red went.

He also wonders why Rodney needs pants.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [helens78](http://helens78.livejournal.com/) who actually asked for AMTDI and semi-con. It got a lot darker than I expected it to and isn't exactly what Helens asked for; for some reason I got it stuck in my head that she wanted actual non-con. As I said above the story, if you squint real hard you can read this as dub-con because Rodney does get into a place where he knows it's going to happen and if it has to, he'd rather it be John than someone else. But since we're not getting his POV in the story, I'm going with calling it non-con.


End file.
